The Nutcracker | [Prince Eric X Reader]

It was nearing midnight when (Y/N) had fallen asleep on the couch after the Drosselmeyer Dinner Party. It had drained her from all of her remaining energy. Besides, she never even liked social interactions. Meaning the people, actually. Definitely the people.

The Nutcracker was cradled in her arms and her knees squeezed protectively to her chest, which was rising and falling with slow, even breaths. She wore her simple silk sash baby pink nightgown, completed with slightly puffed sleeves and English laces. Still cladded on her feet, were matching bow decor bedroom slippers as she snuggled deeper into the couch, wriggling her toes as her eyes danced underneath their lids. A content sigh left her already parted mouth as she breathed in, and out, in, and out...

Grandfather Drosselmeyer leant over the side of the couch, just as Elizabeth entered the doors to family room behind him, "It is time we wake her," he grumbled in a low whisper, before the redhead interjected in objection, stopping him in his tracks, "And spoil a beautiful dream?" She gasped in offence, putting one hand to the place located above her heart and the other on (Y/N)'s cold forehead. "No. Let her sleep," she continued just as Fritz opened his mouth to argue, "She is not a child anymore, Uncle, and she deserves the chance to follow her dreams. To make her own choices. At her own accord," Elizabeth stated cleverly while crossing her arms.

Fritz scoffed audibly as he growled in a menacing, beast-like tone, "Please, you need not jest with me. The girl is hardly eighteen years young! As long as (Y/N) and Thomas are under my roof, they shall live under my rules. Mine," he marched with a stiff spine over to a nearby lamp to switch it off before he continued in a harsh, cold voice. Elizabeth didn't even flinch. She had grown quite used to frozen, sad hearts, " A young girl - girl, not woman - should be responsible and practical. End of story." He all but roared under his breath as he adjusted the grandfather clock. "It is late. I shall see you in the morning."

Then, he turned and left the room, low mutterings of curses echoing through the dark corridors.

Elizabeth shook her head in disappointment and sadness. He hadn't been the same since his only daughter and her spouse had passed away over thirteen years prior. Thirteen full years, seldom, he had still not moved passed it. Obviously. Denial could be an gruesome, evil thing. It changes people. Sometimes in the most hurtful, dark, dark ways...

It can turn people, be it a Gentleman or a Lady, Mister or Miss, a King or Queen, Princess, Prince or Pauper, into something they were not.

A hollow shell of one's former self.

~

The Greyhound owl carved unto the clock eyes came aglow in a greenish hue as the alarm stroke twelve. Midnight fell and the loud chime of the antique furniture echoed hauntingly through the large room. As it chimed for the second time that night, golden light, blue-ish sparkles abruptly exploded from the unnoticed mousehole near the base of the Drosselmeyer Christmas Tree. Beams of bright and saturated magic began to filter into the living room, and the owl atop the grandpa clock, blinked her eyes. Once. Twice. Thrice.

The circled mousehole glowed a luminous pastel colour as heaps of mice soldiers flooded into the parlour. The critters began to destroy the ornaments on the Christmas Tree, and one of the magical beams engulfed the laying Nutcracker, causing him to spring to life and out of (Y/N)'s arms. He blinked the light from his eyes a few times, soaking in his surroundings. Dark blue orbs hard and determined, he let his gaze drop to the mice for a moment or so. Grumbling a curse, the Nutcracker drew his metallic sword with his free hand, exclaiming profoundly in a deep baritone: "Insolent mice!"